


Nights At The Treehouse

by Earth_Phoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Paint, Body Worship, Consensual Kink, Everyone Is An Adult, Harry is over 20, Hidden Idenities, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earth_Phoenix/pseuds/Earth_Phoenix
Summary: Harry goes to a monthly event where everyone has to mask their identity. There, he meets an older man, and they instantly hit off. Over several months - both of them coming to the events - they grow closer and closer, never knowing who the other is, but slowly they both fall in love.At one such event they finally sneak off to have sex. In the act, Harry discovers it's a Death Eater and full on panics - he's horrified that he's been practically dating one of Voldemort's men and terrified they'll hand him over to Voldemort....





	1. The First Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/pseuds/Miraculous) in the [October_Flash_Fest_Part_One](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/October_Flash_Fest_Part_One) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> (Harry/Death Eater of your choice)
> 
> Harry goes to a monthly event where everyone has to mask their identity. There, he meets an older man, and they instantly hit off. Over several months - both of them coming to the events - they grow closer and closer, never knowing who the other is, but slowly they both fall in love. 
> 
> At one such event they finally sneak off to have sex. In the act, Harry discovers it's a Death Eater and full on panics - he's horrified that he's been practically dating one of Voldemort's men and terrified they'll hand him over to Voldemort....
> 
> Huge thanks to Ave for beta'ing this!

Popping in the last of his coloured contacts, Harry blinked rapidly, getting used to the feeling of having the contacts in. Alone in his tiny bathroom, Harry could feel his excitement rising.

With the war dragging on, everyone was scrambling to find a way to cope. Some of his friends had married as soon as they graduated from Hogwarts and others had gone travelling – a luxury Harry didn’t have. He was the figurehead of the Light after all. He needed to stay within the UK borders, in case of an attack.

Still, he needed a release. A way to escape the pressure of being himself. It was through sheer luck that he had discovered the Treehouse. Tucked away in highlands of Scotland, the treehouse looked unremarkable from the outside. The tree itself must have been at least five hundred years old, the owners building a rather large treehouse around it and held during the day corporate meetings that melted into dinners for Muggle businesspeople. Once a month, however, the Treehouse transformed in a rather larger space that could hold as many wizards and witches as needed.

The catch, if you could call it that, was that you had to go in costume. To give the real you a break and allow yourself some fun and escapism.

It was everything Harry had been looking for.

The preferred costume of the regulars was to turn yourself into a piece of living art by using full body paint.

At first, Harry had been wary of this and had just painted himself a basic colour and hoped he would fit in. That first night had been eye-opening as he saw the elaborate designs people painted on themselves, the carefree, judgement less attitudes. No one cared who you really were or what your body shape was. You were free to have fun and let go of your everyday stresses for a single night.

Stepping away from the sink, he checked himself over. Dark blue, almost black eyes now stared back at him. His skin shimmered in the light, his skin painstakingly painted a midnight blue with striking silver and gold patterns crisscrossing over his body.

If anyone saw him now, no one would ever suspect that he was the chosen one, the-boy-that-just-wouldn’t-die. It felt like a burden was being removed from his shoulders.

There was another reason he looked forward to going to the Treehouse… Harry stopped himself from following that train of thought. Padding softly into the living room, he picked up his wand that he had left laying on a table, brought now his wands long enough to Apparate and disappeared into the night.

*

The Treehouse was filled with soft, gentle music, the place already filled with people covered in exquisite body art. Harry slipped in unnoticed, becoming just another person and relaxed, the pressure and worries of the last month slipping away. A waiter walked past holding a tray of champagne and Harry snagged one, moving deeper into the Treehouse.

Close to midnight, Harry found himself lying comfortably on his side, his arm draped over a stuffed dark brown leather armchair, filled with overfilled cushions, listening as the people talk about music. Harry hadn’t been paying all that much attention to the conversation, in truth, he hadn’t heard a word. His attention was fixed on the man painted in silver and gold. Harry had seen him around here before and found him intoxicating.

Not wanting to be caught staring (and possibly drooling,) Harry got to his feet, wondering vaguely if it was worth heading to the buffet table when a hand was placed on the small of his back.

“May I have this dance?”

Harry swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as the man he had been admiring all evening smiled down at him.

“Sure,” Harry answered once he had remembered how to speak.  _ It is just one dance _ , he tried to tell his racing heart.  _ One dance and I’ll probably won’t even ever see him again. _

The man grasped his hand gently and led him over to the small dancefloor.

Harry couldn’t tell much over the paint, but the man whoever he really was in the outside world had a sure confident gait, laughter lines peaked through the light face paint. So… he was older than Harry? He could live with that. The man was definitely taller, which was also fine; he enjoyed being the little spoon anyway.

They didn’t speak as they danced and honestly, Harry had forgotten what words were and why they were needed. The feel of a hand on his hip, the other holding his hand as they danced as close as they could without disturbing the body paint had robbed him of all coherent thought.

The music ended and Harry stepped away before the next piece of music could start. “Thanks…that was…great.”

The man smiled. “Anytime.”

Not wanting to make the moment any more awkward, Harry flushed and stepped away, heart racing in his chest. Oh, Merlin, he sounded like that right prat. That was  _ great. Great _ ? Was that really the best he could come up with? No wonder he was single.

Wandering over to the buffet table, he could still feel a pair of eyes on him. Oh, Merlin. He lingered long enough to make it look like he wasn’t rushing away from the stranger before he left The Treehouse, arriving home a little after two in the morning.

He ran a hand through his transfigured long brown hair,  _ that was. _ That was…nice. Being held. Danced with. By someone he liked. He hadn’t even had to worry about Voldemort finding out….

The thought of Voldemort was like waking up from a dream, like someone throwing a bucket of ice-cold water on you as you slept. That was the problem, the lingering threat of Voldemort. If he ever fell for anyone, they’d be in instant target.

With a heavy sigh, he headed to the shower and back to his real life. 


	2. Silver and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns to the Treehouse and things slowly start to heat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello, hi, I'm alive.
> 
> If there's one good thing about being in Lockdown, it's having time to write. I hope you're doing well and staying as safe as you can while the world is going crazy. 
> 
> Huge thanks to PaperWorlds for being an amazing Beta!

Elegant violin music poured out from the Treehouse, filling the night air with a rich, vibrant tone. Head turned up to the night sky, the stars twinkling down above him, Harry sucked in a large, soothing breath.

The war had only gotten worse in the last month. Voldemort’s attacks had grown more frequent and disturbing. Just yesterday, the Death Eaters had slaughtered an entire family. There hadn’t been much left of them, by the time the Aurors had got to the scene. Just blood dripping down walls, the twitching of a severed toe. 

Instead of rushing towards the Treehouse, Harry took carefully measured strides. Forcing himself to enjoy the wall the cool night air ruffled his hair as he walked. The way the lazy late summer breeze felt against his warm skin and the paint he had so painstakingly applied. 

Harry had once again opted for a midnight blue base. This time, he made the silver and gold patterns from the month prior mimic small stars that made him look like the night sky. 

The warmth of the Treehouse hit him full in the face. A roaring firepit had been set up in the middle of the main room, radiating warmth and light to every corner of the Treehouse. As Harry stepped further into the welcoming heat, his eyes gazed around the room, hoping that his dance partner had opted for a similar body paint design. 

Nameless bodies of all shapes and sizes laid together on the soft fabric sofas, while others danced, their arms and legs entwined so tightly together it was impossible to see where one person started and another person ended. 

A woman painted in blues, greens, and purples approached, holding a tray of champagne glasses. Harry took one, nodding his thanks, and carried on walking deeper into the Treehouse. He took a seat on one of the love seats, feeling the pressures of the outside world fade away. Here, everyone was safe; no magic could be performed inside the Treehouse, and wands were left at the door. Just in case. 

It was a little after one in the morning. Harry was just considering returning home when he spotted _ him _. The man who was completely painted in patterns of silver and gold. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. Every twist of the man’s body -- arm, his wrist, his ankle -- made new patterns. Harry could stare for hours and still feel awed. 

He could, but he wasn’t going to. There was no need to look like a stalker. Harry stood, not quite sure why, and headed to the bar. A drink, of course. He needed a drink. He needed to wrap his hands around a cool glass and _ not _ pretend he was wrapping his hands around the man’s long cock. 

“Double Fire Whiskey please,” Harry said once he reached the bar. “No ice.” 

The barman, painted in yellows and greens, nodded, “Sure.” 

Harry rested his head on his arms, taking a deep, steadying breath. He could not fall to pieces over a man like this. He had only danced with him once. Sure, it had been a nice dance, but damn. He needed to get himself together. 

“Hello, I’d like a round of six orgasm shots and six blow jobs.” 

If his blush could show through the paint, Harry knew his face would be bright red. It was that deep, baritone voice, the one that made Harry’s insides do backflips. His one-time dance partner. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mr. Silver and Gold leaning casually against the side of the bar, a soft smile playing on his lips and looking right at Harry.

Sweet Merlin. 

Straightening up, Harry laughed nervously. “Hey.” 

“Your whiskey,” the barman said, slipping the drink towards Harry. 

“Thanks.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the man lean towards him, eyes intense. “Hard day?” Mr. Silver and Gold asked. 

"Hard life.” Harry shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “What about you?”

The man shrugged, “Can’t complain, I suppose,” he mused. “Especially with men like you around.” He winked, then took the tray that been placed in front of himself while they had been talking. 

Harry watched, licking his bottom lip. The man’s arse was _ perfect. _ Soft and round and begging to be pulled apart. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to control his racing heart. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, merlin damnit. 

Leaning his back against the bar, Harry pondered if he actually wanted to leave or not. He had no reason to be up early tomorrow morning. Downing the whiskey, Harry walked back to the lounge and sat down.

He could stay a little while longer. 

*

Harry lasted another forty-seven minutes (not that he was counting). It took three more double whiskeys and a pep talk from a man painted glow in the dark neon pink from head to toe before Harry found the confidence to approach Mr. Silver and Gold. 

“Er,” he said once he was close enough. The man looked up, golden eyes locking on Harry’s midnight blue ones. “Would you like to dance?”

Incredibly, amazingly, the man didn’t hesitate. “I would love nothing more.” 

Harry’s palms felt sweaty, but his dance partner didn’t seem to mind. Strong hands, with thick meaty fingers, clung tightly to his hips as they swayed to the music. 

“Do you have a name to go with that handsome face?” Mr. Silver and Gold ducked his head to press a quick kiss to the side of Harry’s neck. Harry momentarily forgot how to breathe at the feel of soft lips against his neck. 

“James,” Harry said after a moment, desperately trying to calm his body down. “I’m James.” There was no need to give a fake name, not really. The whole point of the Treehouse was anonymity— still, Harry felt safer with a barrier to the truth. It was only a small lie. It wasn’t like this could come back to bite him in the arse. 

“So,” Harry said. “What do I call you?” He really needed another name other than ‘Mr. Silver and Gold,’ even if it did sound good in his head. 

“Bas.” The man tugged Harry closer, so they were pressed together, chest to chest. “You can call me Bas.” 

“Nice to meet you, Bas.”

Harry gripped Bas’ shoulders tightly, pressing hard enough to smudge the paint. Bas was broad-shouldered, muscles firm to Harry’s light touches. If this was outside the Treehouse… Harry shook his head. Relationships didn’t happen outside of the Treehouse. 

“What are you thinking?” Bas’ lips were pressed so close to Harry’s ear that he could feel the warm breath of the other man ghosting over his neck. Harry shivered. 

“I was thinking about you,” Harry said, the whiskey’s he’d drunk earlier giving him unusual confidence, “and how hot you are.” 

“Mm.” Bas pressed his lips to Harry’s neck. “Not as hot as you,” he said. “Wanna get out of here?”

Yes. Harry absolutely wanted nothing more than to leave with Bas and find a hard surface. Any hard surface, or soft surface. The ground, a bed, a table, Harry really didn’t mind. 

“I can’t.” Harry bit his lip, wishing that he could. “Work,” he explained, shrugging. Harry could well imagine the field day the press would have, if they ever found out that the Boy-Who-Lived liked to strip naked, cover himself in paint, and drink at an exclusive hideaway club. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t risk it. Molly would chew him out for being so damn careless. 

“I want to,” Harry added quickly, catching the disappointed face of Bas. “Sweet Merlin, I want to. I’m sorry.” 

Bas sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to make the most of tonight.” Bending his head, he caught Harry’s lips in a kiss.

Harry could have melted right there. The kiss was sweet. Bas’ lips were soft and gentle and _ perfect _. Harry could spend the whole rest of his life kissing Bas. 

Eventually, the dance came to an end, as Harry knew it must. A moment later, the clock chimed four. Bloody merlin. 

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said ruefully, pulling away. “I have to get to work eventually.” 

Bas snorted. “Same here. My boss will kill me if I’m late for a meeting.” 

“Grumpy, is he?” Harry teased. 

“That’s one word for it,” Bas laughed. “Another would be a complete bastard.” 

“Ah.” Harry chewed at his lip. “Next month?” he asked, fearful that Bas wouldn’t want to see him again. 

“Next month,” Bas agreed with a small smile. “I’ll be sure to get here a lot earlier.” 

Harry leaned up, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bas’ jaw, before stepping away. “See you.”

Bas titled his head and smiled. “See you, James.” 


End file.
